13 going on 32
by Squint-la
Summary: Claire Gibbons wakes up one day and discovers that she is Angela Montenegro, a 32-year-old version of herself and a forensic artist. What will the squints think of their "new" coworker? WILL BE CONTINUED...YAY?
1. The Discovery

13 going on 32

AN-this is like 13 going on 30 except we see the familiar life of the subject (Angela) with the unfamiliar teenage character. NOTICE-I DO NOT PLAN TO FINISH THIS ANYTIME SOON. I might later if I have time but it is low on my list. Anyone who wishes to write a chapter for it, I will work it in somehow. PM me and I will give you a way to send it. Thanks and here's the first chap!

I woke up on Friday morning and already I could tell that something was up. As far as I could tell, I was in my bedroom, but somehow my bed seemed...bigger.  
Opening my eyes, I saw that this was not my room. The clothes all over the floor were not mine; they belonged to an adult woman. A tall one at that, or else they might have been mine. Also, a grey cat was lounging on the bed at my feet that I had never seen before.  
"Mom?" I called nervously. No answer. This was too weird. I climbed out of my now-huge bed, trying to find a mirror. If I wasn't in my own body, I would have to blame aliens (AN-Is this Hodgins? jk keep reading) or something. When I finally saw myself, my scream likely made people in China flinch.  
After calming down, I reasoned that I was either myself (but 20 years older) or someone else entirely. Either way I was definiely not thirteen. I figured the first step was to find out where I was. To do that I had to get dressed, so I looked around for a closet.  
Fifteen minutes later I was standing on the front porch, wearing a really cute outfit and, for the first time in my life, stilettos. This new me seemed really amazing. I was going to get used to this fast, I could tell. Several people on the street waved at me. I waved back, almost recognizing the older versions of a few peple from school. Probably my imagination.  
It suddenly occured to me that I had a job to go to. Now how was I supposed to figure out where I worked? This was going to be complicated.  
As if on cue, two guys drove up in a blue Mini Cooper, one of them asleep. "Hey Ange! Where are you going?" asked the driver. 'Ange?' I thought. 'But my name is Claire'  
"I'm...not sure," I answered distantly, deep in thought. Who was this? And why did he call me Ange?  
"Oh god Ange, are you having a hangover? How much did you drink last night? Don't answer that. You should go home." he seemed concerned. The other guy was still asleep.  
"No, no! I'm okay. I can work." I answered quickly.  
"Uh-huh," he said, not convinced. "Well then, get in!"  
I figured he worked with me and that maybe he could help me. I got in slowly, but I got in.

AN-So okay, I kinda lied. I probably will continue this. Eventually. But it may be awhile, so just send me your ideas! (P.S.- Lots more reviews may speed up the updating!!) 


	2. The Excuse

13 Going On 32

Chapter 2- Let's Go With That

APOV

**AN: Okay, I kinda lied. I am gonna update this. So anyway, I did! Yay me! Ha-ha. Next is Watching Reruns on Netflix!!**

Against my better judgment, I got into the strange man's car. He seemed to know me, or at least this new me, so it wasn't really like he was some random pedophile taking me away. Luckily the other guy was asleep; I could take the driver, but not both of them. However, it would be nice to have a witness, just in case. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

The driver guy, the short one, looked to be about 33 or younger. He was yelling at the guy on the radio about government conspiracies or something like that. When it switched to commercials, he looked at me in the mirror.

"Hey Ange, you okay? You look sick."

I was confused. Who was Ange? And why did he think I was her? _Oh well, _I thought, _Just play along. It's all you've got._

"Ummm…cold?" I offered weakly. "Where are we going?"

He looked at me like I had three heads. "To work…" he answered slowly, and then the confusion on his face was replaced with realization. "Oh, I get it—you must be hung over." He smiled and shook his head a little, as if playfully chastising me for drinking too much. Even though I didn't drink. But apparently this Ange was nothing like the Claire that I thought I was, and she drank. A lot.

I played along. Shifting my eyes, I replied, "Weeeell…maybe a little."

He grinned, and mumbled something I couldn't hear. I used the silence to think about what was happening. I really wanted to be back home, back in McKinley, back where I belonged. Instead, I'd somehow been thrown forward in time to the point where I was now 32 and no longer Claire. I was Ange, which I realized probably stood for Angelina. I would have to be careful about that; nobody would call me Claire now.

I had a million questions buzzing in my head. Am I married? Dating? Single by choice? My choice? Am I a virgin? A heavy drinker? Do I smoke? And what do I do for money? Am I a stripper or something outrageous like that? Will I need to know or do things I haven't learned yet? How can I hide this from people? Should I? Can I ask for help? Who? And how will I find them?

My constant stream of thought was interrupted by our arrival at work. The guy riding shotgun woke up as soon as the car stopped moving. We all got out and walked up to the building. Through many halls that I guessed were inside a museum, there was a HUGE laboratory with shiny chrome _everything._ I groaned loudly; I was a _scientist?!_ How? I could barely do 8th grade chemistry; I was going to _die_ here.

Unfortunately, the driver guy heard my groan, and he rushed over to help. "Ange, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing," I answered right away. This part was going to be easy. "Just a bit of a headache." I squinted for effect and held my head in my hands. He put his arm around me. He whispered something to a tall woman on the platform. I heard the words "clubbing," "Brennan," and "hangover."

I pulled myself together and stepped over to the platform. The guy who drove me here came over and whispered, "Are you sure you want to stay?"

I nodded. "Very sure." It was true; I'd rather be here than alone in a strange house. I'd have to figure it out as I went along.

END CHAPTER

**AN: So there it is!! Yay!! Review!!**


	3. The Suspicion

13 Going On 32

Chapter 3-The Suspicion

**AN: Sorry folks! Really, I'm dreadfully sorry that I've been neglecting you all. DeviantART is a killer!! Anyway, I'll be writing like mad this weekend. So…yeah. I'm reading Poison Running Through My Veins by EltonColferLuvr while I type this, if you wanna read it…**

**On with the chapter!**

Sitting alone in my office, I thanked the Lord that I didn't have to do anything.

The case of Delaney and Ryan Geogeghan (Irish much??) so far didn't require my help, so I sat alone in my office with a sketchpad, hoping that "Ange" hadn't given up drawing, making me seem totally out-of-character. Nobody had seemed suspicious just yet, though. I was safe for now.

Slowly, my pencil strokes began to form the shape of an early 80's dress. I missed the 80's. I missed my house and my own clothes, and even my dad. Not the crowds and fans that came with him, my _dad._ We rarely spent time alone together, but now I really wanted him back. _No,_ I yelled at myself. _Do NOT think like that. You can never explain it if you start crying._

Just as I started sketching another dress, the man who had driven me here (I heard the tall woman call him Hodgins) entered my office and sat across from me. I looked up from my drawing. "Yes?" I said simply.

"Angela," he began. So _that's_ my name. But why? "What's wrong with you? I mean, you say you're hung over, but…you don't seem yourself. Is there something you want to tell me?"

I stopped drawing. Should I tell him? No way. He'd have me sent to the loony bin, for sure. "I'm just…a little sick, is all."

He didn't seem to believe me. Suddenly, he grabbed my sketchbook. "What the-" I began.

He turned it around to show it to me, raising an eyebrow. It was all design sketches, and I saw the problem right there. This wasn't the 80's. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What is this?" he demanded. I shrugged and he sighed. "Angela, whatever's wrong with you, it's creeping me out."

"Hodgins, I promise I'm fine! I wanted to draw some vintage stuff, that's all!"

"Ange, this isn't even your drawing style! I'm not demanding that you tell me what's up, but I'm worried for you." He put his hand on mine. "Maybe you should go home."

"No," I responded. "I'm not going home."

He stood up. "Fine. Just…be careful." He walked away.

I picked up my sketchbook and sighed. Maybe I should tell someone…

**AN: Sorryz! I know, I know, it's pathetically short. Meh. I'm not really into this one…so I'll do really short, infrequent chapters. Unless you don't like that…but I'll never know unless you REVIEW!**

**Now…**

**LENT TIME!!**

**If you don't know what Lent is, it's a 40-day (actually 46) stretch where Christians have to give something up to prepare to celebrate Easter. Anyway, I gave up Internet, so I'll be off fanfiction from Feb. 17th till April 4th. See ya then!**


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